


A Bite Of The Apple

by Kaz_Langston



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Dominant Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Flogging, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Safeword Use, Safewords, Smut, Submissive Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 10:58:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20274805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaz_Langston/pseuds/Kaz_Langston
Summary: If you squint REALLY hard, you probably still can't see a plot.Crowley reveals one of his fantasies, and Aziraphale is more than happy to oblige.





	A Bite Of The Apple

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the lovely 221Carnations for beta-ing! 
> 
> Stay safe, sane and consensual, people.

They were a little bit tipsy. Not really drunk, just enough to combat the cool of the autumn evening and pass the time. Crowley lounged on the sofa, legs thrown carelessly over the armrest and eyes drooping behind his sunglasses, while Aziraphale had his nose buried in his latest acquisition. 

In the comfortable silence, Crowley mused, "Did I ever tell you what I tried in that little club in South London?"

Aziraphale replied absently, still turning pages and not really paying attention, "You've told me about a lot of things you've done in little clubs, Crowley, you'll have to be a little more specific."

"It was the thing with the cross."

"The... I beg your pardon?" Book still open but no longer the centre of Aziraphale's attention.

Crowley pulled off his sunglasses and stretched sinuously to drop them on the coffee table, delighting in being watched.

"A cross and a... flogger. Amongst other things. And a very lovely young gentleman who had been an _ extremely _ naughty boy." 

He chanced an upside-down look at the angel, who sat open-mouthed and scandalised. Book almost closed, just one finger marking the page. Nearly, nearly.

"Oh angel, he was so naughty and so good and so very grateful..." Crowley bit at his lower lip, faking coquettishness and letting his breath catch as he ran one finger just under the waistband of his jeans. "You would have loved it, you honestly would."

The book was shut. All attention on the bored, horny demon. His angel was so very easy to manipulate sometimes, it's a wonder they got anything done at all.

"He asked me so nicely and I didn't even have to tempt him." He squirmed a little, enjoying the memory - or perhaps his show - more than he'd expected. "I tied him to the cross and gave him _ exactly _ what he wanted."

There was a strangled gulp from the other side of the room. Crowley glanced over to see a very pink-faced angel staring at him in frozen silence, before the gears started ticking again. "Why are you telling _ me _ this?!" High pitched enough that he'd almost have said Aziraphale was angry, if it hadn't been for… certain other indicators.

He let a lazy smile smear across his face. "I thought it might be fun to give it a go."

*-*-*-*-*

Up for trying pretty much anything these days, as long as it wasn't too inherently evil, Aziraphale led them upstairs. After some brief discussion - Aziraphale was adamant about not having anything cause him discomfort, thank you very much, and Crowley rather fancied the thought of kneeling for his beautiful angel - they settled on roles, although, of course, with eternity stretching out ahead of them there would be plenty of time for trying all possible permutations.

"I'll do my best to channel Madam Tracey, shall I?" Aziraphale giggled at the thought.

That bought him an immediate scowl and protectively hunched shoulders.

"If you're not going to take it seriously, forget it. It was just an idea anyway, I don't care." 

The full-body shrug as he turned away from the bed belied his words, and Aziraphale immediately protested. "Wait! Wait, Crowley, please. Just… give me a minute." The room filled with breathing, deliberately deep and calming from Aziraphale as he attempted to gather himself, shallow and impatient from Crowley. A minute passed, then another. 

Crowley moved to shove one arm back into his jacket, refusing to make eye contact as his cheeks burned. "Forget it. It was stupid anyway."

Aziraphale's voice cracked through the air like a whip. "Sit _ down _, Crowley." 

Crowley sat.

Suddenly he was very much reminded that the polite bookseller he so loved was also a formidable angelic warrior, capable of great miracles and wielding flaming swords and, very occasionally, planning the death of someone posing a threat to the world. 

_ Wonderful _.

"If you really want to do this, we need a safe word."

Look at that, the angel had been reading the same naughty books as he had. Maybe slightly dryer, more euphemistic versions, but fundamentally the same thing. Probably fewer pictures. Definitely no instructional videos.

"Really, angel, I don't think there's any need-"

"This isn't an argument! This is just how it is." A hint of the nervous bookseller drifting back in now, his voice wavering a little, but the power still lingered under the surface. "If you say 'apple', we stop everything. Understand?"

Crowley kept a lid on his amusement - a demon needing a safe word, of all things, and apple, really? - and nodded. "Apple means stop. Got it." He didn't mention that there was absolutely no chance that he'd be asking to stop any part of the event. 

"Is there… anything I shouldn't do? Anything, uh…" Serious blushing and fidgeting. He was trying so hard.

"Angel, I seriously doubt there's anything you could come up with that I'd say no to."

Aziraphale frowned. "Well, I have some rules, even if you don't care. The safe word, for starters. And no blood." He swallowed carefully. "No damage."

Crowley shrugged, still not quite convinced he'd be getting anything at all. "I've had worse. But yeah, okay." He'd not enjoyed the 'worse' but then that's Hell for you - it's not really supposed to be fun. He thought for a moment, then added, "Pain is fine, but no humiliation. Don't dismiss me or ignore me. Not this time." Suddenly self-conscious, he tugged his legs up onto the bed, arms wrapping around his crossed shins.

"Yes. Ok, good. Well." For a moment, Aziraphale looked a little lost and Crowley felt a surge of nervous empathy, ready to call it all off and try again another time, but two imperious strides forward brought the shorter man to the bed, haughtily looking down at the demon, and it was very much back on. "Shirt off, please." Mild but firm, barely a tremor in the voice. Brave boy.

As Crowley released his grip on his legs and reached a hand up to snap his fingers, Aziraphale's face dimmed a little, but he didn't say anything. Grumbling under his breath, Crowley reached for his shirt buttons instead, which earned him a delighted little smile and a strong sense that he was, in fact, beyond all possible help.

Shirt undone and jeans slung low on his narrow hips, he lounged elegantly back across the bed, looking up through his lashes. With calculated carelessness, he let the shirt fall aside to show off his chest and firm, flat stomach, tapering down to deep hip creases and a delicate trail of dark hairs. Slitted eyes gazed up through long eyelashes. He looked good, sultry enough to tempt all but the most devout of humans to sin, but the whims of humans were nothing now. 

Wide blue eyes, dilated almost to black, stared back at him.

Crowley bit back something unforgivably sappy, then something unforgivably filthy, before settling on a lopsided grin. Somehow that broke the spell.

"We'll need things. Like your flogger. And restraints." Aziraphale was suddenly pink-cheeked, but battled valiantly on. "I'm not sure exactly what you want." 

He looked beseechingly at Crowley, who saw straight through the facade and laughed at him. "After all we’ve done, you're worried about getting in trouble for miracling up some sex toys?"

"It just seems your area rather than mine, that's all." The pink had started to reach his ears and Crowley wondered absently about seeing just how far he could make it spread, before dragging himself back to the matter at hand. A quick thought and a shuffle of firmament, and the room was suddenly adorned with another cabinet, dark wood and heavy iron. "Thank you, my dear." Aziraphale's grateful smile was outmatched by Crowley's wolfish grin, and he faltered a little before tentatively swinging open the doors.

Row upon row of… things. Things for pleasure, things for pain, things for restriction and stretching; as much stock as any sex shop in Soho. Most of them Crowley recognised - the internet had truly been educational, and human depravity knew no bounds - but some he didn't, and he had a brief moment of concern about the state of his subconscious that he hadn't noticed some of the ideas floating around in there. Leather featured heavily, as did gleaming stainless steel and things requiring batteries; something latex that looked like a maid outfit, which Crowley couldn't tell was in his size or Aziraphale's, looked incongruous alongside handcuffs, canes and steel bars.

Slightly breathless, Aziraphale reached in and stroked one piece after another, feeling a soft velvet lining, tugging at a bamboo rope to feel for any stretch, threading his fingers gently through the throngs of a leather flogger. Crowley watched intently, arousal fizzing low in his stomach. Perhaps he should have guessed that the angel would prefer the more sensual items, soft indulgent textures to suit his usual hedonism. But then, his angel would want to please, and for this demon that meant leather and steel, not silk and velvet. 

A thorough inventory taken, Aziraphale turned back to the bed. Suddenly Crowley felt as much under inspection as the items he'd miracled into existence, and felt his own cheeks darken as wide blue eyes trailed greedily over his skin.

"I'd like you naked, please." 

Crowley had managed to break him of the habit of please and thank you during sex, but apparently, it returned under stress. Aziraphale watched closely as Crowley slid the shirt off his shoulders and wriggled out of the skintight jeans, tossing them aside. Nothing underneath, of course, so his cock sprang free, rising proudly from dark curls, and Crowley splayed his legs to show off. 

Aziraphale still stood by the cabinet in silence, and Crowley suddenly felt the distance keenly. 

Something obviously changed in his face, as Aziraphale was at his side in a moment, gently stroking his cheek and wrapping one soft hand around his jaw. Crowley sighed, leaning into it a little and letting his eyes close. 

"Are you sure you want this?"

He felt his jaw clench and knew Aziraphale felt it too. "Angel, get on with it!"

That was enough, and suddenly the hands so gentle on his face were sliding down his throat, pressing just a little too hard so the blood stuttered. Crowley felt his eyelids flutter at the pressure but forced himself to keep them open as the hands drifted further down.

Aziraphale traced one finger over a collarbone, sharp ledge just this side of bony, before splaying a hand over his chest. He waited for a moment, perhaps feeling the frantic thudding of a demon heart that was too excited to realise it wasn't needed, before shoving Crowley down. 

His arms gave out underneath him - angelic strength coupled with his own shaky limbs betraying him - and he was flat on his back. 

The adrenaline rush shot straight to his cock, making his hands tingle and his lips loose, and he looked up at Aziraphale. "You look a lot taller from down here." A breathless giggle broke away from him and he covered his eyes. "Sorry! Sorry, carry on."

His angel stood in silence, waiting for him to settle down, and after a moment Crowley calmed. 

In the instant between the laughter leaving him and taking his next breath, the angel was on him, one hand on his throat and the other grabbing for a free arm. Wide thighs straddled skinny hips, and Crowley was pinned to the bed, his hand flinging away from his face to scrabble at the bedsheets with a whimper.

Aziraphale's heavy breath hissed in his ear. "Roll over."

Eyes dancing, Crowley shook his head, biting his lip to keep from giggling in delight. "Shan't."

The angel snorted out an unexpected laugh. "Really, Crowley, you don't have to be so difficult about it."

He grinned, unrepentant. Surely Aziraphale had known he'd be like this.

"Roll over, or I'll slap you." 

Crowley squirmed obediently onto his side, then over to his front as Aziraphale released his grip, but in the last instant before lying down again he brought one leg up and made a break for it, thighs slipping neatly between the angel's legs and carrying him up the bed.

Strong hands grabbed both ankles and yanked, and suddenly he was flat on his face, pinned one again by Aziraphale's hips. It startled a laugh out of him, but it was quickly stifled by the hard slap across his naked backside.

Crowley yowled at the sting, looking accusingly back at the angel. "That _ hurt _!" 

Nonplussed, Aziraphale sat back on his heels and raised an unsympathetic eyebrow, smoothing one hand over suddenly warm skin. "I did warn you."

He gently patted the pink, stinging cheek and swung his leg aside, half tumbling off the bed. "Stay there - exactly there - or I'll do it again."

Suspicious serpentine eyes followed his movements, rummaging again in the cupboard, this time with purpose. 

He returned with a pair of thick leather cuffs, lined with something soft and fastened together by a long chain. Something clinked in his pocket.

Settling back on Crowley's legs, Aziraphale stroked gently at firm shoulders and down one strong arm, twining their fingers together briefly before lifting the arm to rest it on top of the open cuff and fasten it. The same on the other side, plus a gentle kiss to the thin skin of his wrist, and the cuffs were secure. 

The chain between them was an inch or so shorter than the width of Crowley's narrow waist, so his arms were lifted off the bed, fingers loosely curled upwards. He tugged at them a little, testing, but there wasn't much give in the thick leather and the straps were tight. 

Aziraphale rose up on his knees just enough to give Crowley an inch of space, and tugged roughly at shoulder and hip to roll him over. Apparently, he was no longer trusted to do it himself.

The cuffs restricted his arms just enough that his hands were trapped beneath him against the sheets, canting his naked hips up off the bed. He smiled breathlessly up at his angel, who dimpled back at him.

"Not too tight?"

Crowley shook his head. 

"I trust you to say something if it is. Or apple, if you need." 

He nodded, then felt it wasn't quite enough for Aziraphale's intensity. "I will. I promise."

"Good boy."

Oh and wasn't that interesting. 

Aziraphale fixed him with a knowing gaze. A thrill shot through him, head to toe and dancing a jig in his gut, and he threw his head back against the soft sheets, baring his teeth. Six thousand years - or just six months, depending on your perspective - and this wonderful being knew him inside and out.

Aziraphale reached out to stroke a warm hand down his cheek, over a delicate cheekbone, then buried it soothingly in soft dark hair. Crowley's eyes started to close at the gentle rhythm. Just as his body started to relax the hand twisted, yanking his head back to stretch out the vulnerability of his long throat, and a groan rattled through him. 

Plump lips pressed themselves to his jaw, licking and nibbling and whispering hot breath across his skin. 

Crowley whined and squirmed in his restraints, pushing close then twisting away, hard and wanting as Aziraphale kept their hips apart, pinning him to the bed at thighs and shoulders with enough strength to threaten bruising every time he thrashed.

Sharp teeth and soft lips made a slow path down his chest, grazing here and there in what felt like no pattern at all, following clever fingers stroking and pinching and scratching until the pale plane was littered with glowing, glistening pink. Eventually he settled at one nipple, teasing it hard and proud from his chest, rolling the other firmly between thumb and forefinger and greedily grasping whole-handed at the muscle beneath it. Crowley was reduced to gasping and humming his pleasure, eyes flickering closed and rolling in his head. 

Briefly pausing his assault, Aziraphale reached into his pocket before pinching hard enough at one nipple to draw another yelp. Crowley clenched his stomach and threw his shoulders forward, but even once the angel drew back the sting continued. A whine broke free before Aziraphale hushed him, stroking gently at his breast where a chain now dangled, clamped tightly on the flesh at the base of one little peak.

At the sight of it, he raised his eyes, outraged and half furious. Aziraphale waited implacably for him to still before giving the other side the same treatment, resting one large hand on his stomach to soothe the clenched muscle there and settle him back on the bed. 

"Oh, that's lovely, my dear, it really is." Clasping his hands to his chin in delight, Aziraphale watched Crowley bite his lip and curl his chest inwards, trying to limit the pressure. It didn't help, and nor did the breath hissing through his teeth, but his cock was still hard between them, so Aziraphale took no pity on him.

The hairs on his arms rose, goose-pimpled, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled. A visceral shudder rolled through him, starting from his shoulders and ending where Aziraphale sat firmly on his thighs, leaving relaxation in its wake. 

It felt like his last defense had fallen, and he closed his eyes in surrender.

He hadn't expected this. A quick flogging, maybe a little "yes sir, no sir" or a bit of choking on cock, but not an angel entranced by the sharp twinges of pain on pale skin.

*-*-*-*-*

Aziraphale hadn't expected this. 

He'd expected the cheek, of course; Crowley wasn't known to be respectful of near anything, and he could hardly ask for masochistic silence. 

No, it was the subtle shift from playful resistance to full-bodied acquiescence that was unexpected. Embracing submission, embracing what he was offered.

A sudden twinge pinched at his stomach. He had ideas, yes, and inclination to act on them, but it suddenly felt that the event had taken on a more momentous weight. Not just sex, but rules, guidelines, _ orders _ \- taking control of his demon and offering him peaceful surrender.

He swallowed thickly. Perhaps this had been too much, perhaps they were moving too fast for this new thing between them - what's six months after six thousand years of longing, after all?

Crowley seemed to sense something was wrong, eyelids cracking open to reveal a slit of dilated pupil. 

"Zira? You ok?"

He nodded, mute as he loosened his bow tie, then smiled. "Just thinking." He could do this. 

Crowley made a rude noise. "That's not healthy." Eyes opened fully then, and he struggled to sit up. Aziraphale didn't help.

They sat and stared at each other for a moment, both unused to the difference in heights - sat on Crowley's thighs, Aziraphale was a good couple of inches taller than the demon. An attempt to raise his hands failed as the chain brought him up short, and he looked up plaintively. "Take 'em off? Just for a minute."

Aziraphale nodded, wide-eyed. Twisting awkwardly, Crowley offered a wrist, the other arm tugging behind his back, and Aziraphale obediently unfastened the proffered strap. Crowley didn't bother twisting back round to give him the other side, instead choosing to reach out both arms and gently draw him close. Carefully, because he still had those damned clamps on, he wrapped his arms around the angel and rested his head on the worn velvet waistcoat.

Aziraphale heaved a sigh, bringing his own arms gratefully around the demon, burying his nose in the red hair - longer, these days, and thoroughly tousled - taking a deep breath of the woodsmoke scent of him. Without letting go, he managed to shift his legs so he could wrap them around Crowley's skinny hips, holding him even closer.

When after a few blissful minutes he intentionally tightened his grip and brought them fiercely together, there was a sharp yelp and hands scrabbled at his back, the loose cuff jangling.

Grinning, recovered and unrepentant, Aziraphale leant back to meet scowling yellow eyes, slapping aside the hands that were reaching unsubtly for the clamps. "Don't be naughty, dear. Ready for more?" He rested a hand lightly on the delicate silver chain. Crowley looked at him with wide eyes and furrowed brow, nodding yes then shaking his head no, hands fluttering by his sides, not daring to grab at him for fear of making it all worse.

Lips pressed in a little moue of disappointment, Aziraphale tugged ungently on the chain. 

With a high pitched whine, Crowley lurched forward again, following Aziraphale's harsh hand until he let go, then flopped back onto the bed with a relieved oomph.

"I'm cruel to you, my lovely demon. But you're very brave." Still on his knees, Aziraphale tilted his head. "What's the safe word?"

"...apple."

"Will you use it if you need to?"

"...won't need to," came the sullen response.

He pressed further. "But if you did."

"Fine. Yes, I'll say it if I need to." Aziraphale pretended not to hear the quiet "but I won't need to," that followed. He didn't intend to have Crowley safeword out, but the idea of him not saying it when it was needed - well. He wouldn't have it.

"Don't think I can't see what you're doing, darling." Those naughty hands were making their way back across the narrow chest. “You won’t like what happens if you try and take them off.”

The hands didn’t stop sliding closer, Crowley staring insolently up at him. Aziraphale let him get within an inch of the metal pins before giving a final warning. “Crowley.”

The demon paused, seriously considering his next steps, before deciding it couldn’t be all that bad and making his move.

*-*-*-*-*

Just as his fingers were about to close on the left clamp, Aziraphale moved.

The world was suddenly a blur, spinning around him, and when it settled he was on his knees facing the headboard, the cuffed arm secured to a narrow slat (surely the headboard had been a single solid piece before?) and the other wrist - oh, a very clever use of the bow tie, but surely the fabric would never be the same? He vowed not to tug at it, and suppressed a wriggle of delight. 

“I warned you twice, and you disobeyed me twice.” Aziraphale’s voice was low, disappointed. 

He hung his head, some of the arousal trickling away at the soft tone. “Didn’t mean to.”

“You _ did _ mean to, and that’s naughty, so you’ll be punished. Stay there.” The bed shifted as Aziraphale climbed up, but Crowley didn’t lift his head to watch.

It was just a moment before he returned, but it was long enough for Crowley’s shoulders to tense up. Bravado was all well and good, but that cabinet was full of all sorts of things, and his angel had almost sounded _ cross _. Or at least peeved.

Hands grasped his wrist - the one with the bow tie wrapped around it - and replaced the soft fabric with a stronger restraint. Crowley fought to keep the pout off his face. It was probably for the best. 

Aziraphale was perfectly demure, still dressed in his waistcoat, shirt and trousers, his only deference to the situation the open neck of his shirt and his bare feet. On his knees and grasping the headboard, naked except for the cuffs, Crowley felt very exposed. 

One warm hand caressed his back, sliding down to his arse. Crowley braced himself for the slap, but instead, the hand trailed down his crease, finding the sensitive skin there and circling gently. A second hand stroked down his chest, tugging gently again at the chain but not hard enough to hurt, just enough to remind him it was there and send unexpected pleasure thrilling to his cock.

The telltale squash of a bottle pump had him braced, the cold wetness hitting him a second later, adding slickness to the stroking. He closed his eyes, letting the feeling wash over him, pushing back in encouragement. Aziraphale was in no rush, sliding and teasing with one finger, stroking up and down his crease, dragging slowly over the delicate entrance, bringing all Crowley’s attention to the hypnotic sensation. 

Just as the tip of that wide finger breached, there was a rush of air, and a sharp crack echoed. 

The sound made him jump before the pain hit, but there was barely an instant between them, and Crowley cried out at the sting, clenching tight even as Aziraphale’s finger slid in.

He swore, sharp and bitten off, but didn’t try to pull away. 

Aziraphale’s hand - the one not holding the riding crop - moved, twisting that finger inside him, curling and stroking and calming, waiting for the stretch to fade. One finger wasn’t much, but his angel was nothing if not patient and careful. 

It didn’t take long until Crowley was groaning, thrusting himself back, stretching out his long spine to get as close as possible while still restrained. The finger withdrew, and he braced himself for a second, but instead-

_ Crack! _

Betrayed, he threw himself forward, futilely trying to avoid the strike. The movement made the chain on his chest swing, tugging at swollen nipples, and Crowley bit his lip, face screwed up to keep the whine in his throat from turning into a shout.

“Two down, dear. Shall we say two more?”

Crowley snarled wordlessly, looking over a sweaty shoulder at dancing blue eyes. 

Aziraphale shook his head reprovingly. “That’s not very nice. Let’s say three more, and I’ll take the clamps off afterwards.”

“You’re so generousss,” Crowley hissed, not meaning a word of it.

He was met with another beam. “I do try.” 

The arc of the whip being drawn back had Crowley flinching away, bracing himself for the third strike. It came, but after it, a hand on his cock, neglected but still hard, and he thrust forward gratefully.

A few strokes were all he was granted, before the hand was back at his entrance, slick and ready. A second finger, perhaps, or the first again, just to be sure, but no - something smaller than a finger pierced him, cool and slim. It moved slowly but inexorably and soon he was stretching around it wider and wider, almost too much, until with a last twinge it was settled deep and he felt himself flutter around the narrow shaft of it. 

A delighted hum from behind him had Crowley lifting his head. “You’re doing wonderfully, my dear, just splendidly.”

Blast the angel for knowing exactly what it would take for him to bite back his demands and just wait silently for the next-

This time, when it came, the strike was on the other cheek, just a touch lower; the tension it drove through his muscles was delicious around the toy and he moaned, canting his hips back to feel the plug shift inside him.

“Last one.”

Too soon, too soon! But the pain hit and spread and then was over, and a hand was on his cock again and the toy was still there, a pleasant pressure, and the sting was swiftly forgotten.

He lost himself for a moment, mouth slack as he thrust into the waiting hand and pushed back against the toy, hips sinuous and eager, but again Aziraphale gave him only a few moments before taking his hand away.

“I promised I’d take the clamps off, remember?” The voice was soft, and it took Crowley a minute to register what it meant. Relief from the ache in his chest, the throbbing pressure on each nipple, freedom to move without every movement sending the chain swaying and pulling. 

He groaned out something that sounded like “Yes”, or perhaps “please”, and a hand reached under his chest to release one cruel pin.

The _ pain _ \- oh, the ache was nothing now compared to the throbbing burn of it, and he cried out, trying desperately to push his chest to the bed despite his restraints, tug a hand free to press at the wounded peak, do something to ease it, but he was trapped and it was relentless.

When it receded enough for him to open his eyes, he was on his side, arms awkwardly twisted above his head, knees brought close to his chest. 

He stared up accusingly at the angel, who was decidedly unruffled. “You knew that was going to happen!”

A secret smile crept across the angelic face. “I may have done.”

“_ Ow _!”

“You’re rather repeating yourself, dear.”

Crowley hissed wordlessly at him. 

Gently pushing him over onto his back, Aziraphale lay down beside him, then pressed kisses to his chest, until he set his mouth to the red, swollen flesh that still throbbed in time with Crowley’s heartbeat. Even the pressure of lips and tongue was nearly too much, but then it was blissful, beautiful, and the demon groaned low at the feel of it, his hips rocking forward with every movement. 

The release of the other clamp brought tears to his eyes, but then that clever mouth was there, laving and soothing, calming the fire. After the first rush had subsided and he was needy and wanting again, a hand crept down to his cock, stroking too gently at the heated flesh, sliding the foreskin up over the glistening head and back down with the barest touch. It wasn't enough, was nothing near enough, not with the heat still burning on his chest and the plug pressing deep inside, and Crowley held back pleas for more more _ more _ , until with a firm twist of that soft hand the dam was broken and he was writhing on the bed, broken half-words of _ yes _ , and _ harder _ , and _ please, _ tumbling from his lips.

When Aziraphale let go, he sobbed, still bucking into thin air, trying desperately to turn and rut against the bed even as a strong arm across his chest pinned him flat. Frustrated, he snarled wordlessly and flung himself straight into a different approach. "Aziraphale please, I've had enough, please, _ please _ let me come, touch my cock, oh- oh please suck me, you have such a beautiful mouth, or you can fuck me however you want, just let me come, I can't take it any more, please, angel, please-"

Aziraphale hushed him with a gentle finger to his lips, stroking his cheek when he quietened. "You're doing so wonderfully, my darling, you look so beautiful. Are you sure you want to stop?"

"Yes- no- ah!" He didn't want to stop, he just wanted that hand back on his cock, or those pretty plump lips, or _ something _, and with his words spent he shook his head and looked up pleadingly. 

"We can do this at my pace or you can use your safeword. Do you remember it?"

No, not that. He wouldn't. "Apple, I remember."

"Do you want to use it?"

The thought of having his hands released so he could frantically wank himself into oblivion was incredibly tempting, but Crowley resisted, shaking his head, and Aziraphale patted his shoulder reassuringly with a small pleased smile. 

"Good boy.”

Ngh-

“I'm going to get a flogger, since that's what started all of this. You can lie on your front or be on all fours. Or standing, if you want. Pick something comfortable. Don't touch yourself."

Reluctantly, awkwardly, far too aroused to be moving, Crowley shuffled to his knees, the movement of the plug and the restriction of the cuffs stealing his usual sinuous grace. He sat back on his heels and held his head high, arms braced against the headboard. No more begging, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction. 

Aziraphale didn't get back on the bed, instead tugging Crowley closer to the edge. Some small part of Crowley's mind said wildly, "oh hell, he's getting a run up," and he bit his lip to stop from whimpering. 

He stood tall above the demon, flogger in his right hand, tails of it in his left, stroking it gently as he gathered them together, making sure everything was just so. 

The first impact was gentle, particularly compared to the vicious strikes he'd taken from the crop, falling in a neat thud. He didn't flinch. There was a shuffle of feet, then it flicked across to the other shoulder, down the back of his ribs then back up, uncertain, but once Aziraphale had settled on his target - the firm flesh of his shoulders - it moved into a constant thud thud thud that was almost hypnotic, bringing heat into one area before moving on to the next and the next.

After a while the strikes became harder, but still not painful, building a warm ache on each chosen target, occasionally alternating with a stinging snap that bit harder and made his skin jump and twitch. He sat straight-backed, embracing the dull pain and letting it sink under his skin even as it dragged his eyelids closed. 

When a strike landed on the knot of muscle just where his left wing would manifest, he couldn’t help a cry; the second strike mirroring it on the right had him shuddering, clenching around the plug. A third strike made the trembling worse, and he curved his back up to try and settle it even as he felt his control slip. Aziraphale paused, and rested a hand on the warm curve of skin. “My dear, you’re doing wonderfully, you’ve kept so still and been so brave. Be brave a little longer.” 

Crowley still shivered, even the gentle hand almost too much on the sensitive twist of muscle, and Aziraphale leant down to whisper in his ear. “Don't make me bind your wings as well."

That soft threat was too much, and his head fell forward with a muffled cry, tears filling his eyes even as Aziraphale struck again and again. 

He was openly weeping when the angel finally stopped, tears dripping from the tip of his nose onto the pillow beneath him and his back heaving, Aziraphale's name tumbling from his lips in pleading broken syllables.

He hadn’t begged, hadn’t broken, but oh how he trembled now for a soft touch.

The thump of the flogger hitting the floor didn’t register, but the gentle arms encircling him did, and he pressed into the warm chest at his side, shuffling and twisting to get as much contact as possible even as he buried his face in the pillow to hide his burning cheeks.

“Oh my darling, darling boy. You were so brave, so good, so very strong.” Hands soothed his back, carded gently through his hair, crushed him close to his angel, and slowly he calmed.

After a little while, he pulled away, shaking his head a little at the rushing of blood in his ears before looking up at his angel with a rueful grin and slurring out sibilantly, “Guess I know why he liked it so much.”

Aziraphale choked out a startled laugh, looking a little red-eyed himself, and with no little guilt admitted, “I can see why you liked it, too.”

Crowley hummed in agreement, too high on endorphins to say anything clever.

They lay together for a few minutes, the silence broken only by the clink of chains as one or both of them shifted to get a little closer. 

Eventually, Aziraphale stirred and sat up, running one hand gently down Crowley’s side. “I’ll take these off and we can-”

Crowley’s flinch tore at him and he snatched his hand back, but the demon was already shaking his head, yellow eyes pleading. “Don’t- don’t take them off yet. I want-” He swallowed heavily and looked away. “I want to fuck like this.”

“Crowley-”

“Please, angel. I remember the safe word, I’m not in pain, it just feels so- like you _ need _ me. That you’ve got me trapped and you can’t help yourself.” 

Something very dark stirred behind Aziraphale’s eyes at that, but he put it aside. That would be a game for another day. 

He nodded and cleared his throat. “Sit up.”

Crowley was instantly obedient, swaying a little in his eagerness. Firm, gentle movements had him positioned where Aziraphale wanted him, wrists still fastened awkwardly to the headboard, but enough play in the chains that he could rest his elbows on the bed and tilt his hips up, displaying his muscled arse and the bold black plug. 

This time, when the open hand struck his cheek, Crowley barely flinched, swaying forward and then back with a soft hum, tightening around the toy, pushing his chest lower and hips higher, contorting to present himself to his angel. 

When a hand settled on the plug, he gave a guttural, grateful moan. Aziraphale pushed and pulled and twisted, rubbing it deep inside, and he couldn’t help his hips undulating at the feel of it, clenching and bucking, until suddenly it was gone, leaving emptiness and a gentle burn in its wake.

Before he could protest, the hand was back, pushing two clever fingers inside, barely needed after the stretch of the toy but spreading him wider, running over that little nub inside that had him gasping. A third finger joined, and he wanted to beg for more but his words had left him, so he settled for whining high in his throat and wantonly curling his hips back, spreading his legs wide until his cock nearly brushed the bed.

Crowley keened when the hand pulled away, biting at his lips with teeth that had sharpened without notice, but the angel didn’t leave him alone for long. The susurrus of a zipper had him hissing _ yes _ in a low, tarnished voice, and the first nudge of slick cock at his entrance drew a desperate moan.

“This is going to hurt, my darling.”

Aziraphale had done something - more girth, certainly, but perhaps more length too - and the burn as he pressed in past the newly loosened ring brought tears to serpentine eyes, even tiny little thrusts almost too much as he tried to spread himself wider, forced open by hands on his cheeks and the cock sliding inexorably in.

When the angel’s hips were finally, finally pressed against him, sweat was beading on both their foreheads and Crowley’s fists were clenched, breath rasping and catching in his throat. 

They stopped there, Crowley twitching and clenching around the hard cock, trying to accommodate the stretch, but all too soon Aziraphale was moving, bucking forward a little and canting back, small movements that helped ease the tightness and bring the demon’s cock back to fullness.

The burning settled eventually into a soft ache, and the dragging of the cock inside him had him whimpering and writhing again, harsh breaths coalescing into _ yes yes yes please more harder yes- _

Aziraphale fucked him harder, harder, and it had to hurt, every deep thrust driving them further up the bed, but still, Crowley begged for more, until Aziraphale lifted up a hand to drag his head back and bite at the curve of his throat, and finally he descended into wordlessness with a muted howl.

A rattle of chains and the cuffs were undone, and an arm around his chest pulled him back until he was seated on the angel’s lap, legs spread wide around solid thighs. Aziraphale held him tight as the curve of his belly bowed the slim, bruised back, snapping his hips to rake across that delicate spot inside him with every movement. A soft hand dropped down to his cock, spreading pre-come with an elegant twist, stroking and pulling almost too tightly in time with every brutal thrust.

Crowley's breath was coming in harsh, wordless pants, and it was all too much.

"Ah, ah, ah-"

Aziraphale crooned at him, still driving forwards, and he choked out at last, "ah- _ apple _!"

And then he was coming, convulsing, sobbing, even as Aziraphale pulled out with a jerk of his hips and left him empty, bereft.

His pitiful cries echoed in the silence after the rhythmic slap of flesh, his hips still jerking weakly, and Aziraphale gathered him into his arms to soothe him with wordless noises. 

Crowley buried his head in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, tears cascading down his face and into the soft divot of collarbone as he shook with the force of it, arms tight around his angel as he clung desperately to his solidity.

Eventually, his hearing returned, and the sounds trickling overhead coalesced into words; apologies, loving promises, praise, more apologies. 

“Angel?” he croaked out. "That wassss... amazing."

"Oh, my dear. My darling, my dear heart." Shaking hands gently cupped his jaw to tilt his head back and he looked up into worried blue eyes. "I'm so proud of you for using your safeword. I should have been more careful. Are you hurt?"

"Am I-" He coughed, then took a gulp of the glass of water pressed into his hand, spilling it half down his chin. "Am I hurt? I don't think ssso." Crowley blinked slowly, half drunk. "No, 'm ok. Jus' a bit too much." He gave back the glass and absently observed, "m' hand's wobbly."

It didn't seem to worry him, but Aziraphale clutched him even tighter, dark head on his chest as he stroked gently down that naked, marked back and pulled the soft duvet around them, pressing kisses to damp hair.

It was a long time before Crowley stirred, pliant and soothed. "Zira? Did you… do you want me to…?"

Aziraphale laughed shakily. “I thought I’d broken you, my dear, it somewhat put a dampener on the whole thing.”

"Maybe tomorrow, then." Crowley burrowed closer, burying his nose in soft curls of chest hair and huffing gently. 

"Maybe tomorrow."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on twitter @Kaz_Langston. Come and see.


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